


In the Rubble of a Nation that no Longer Exists

by arcadian_hiraeth



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Arguing, Character Death, Explosions, Found Family, Non-Canonical Character Death, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, The Festival (Dream SMP)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_hiraeth/pseuds/arcadian_hiraeth
Summary: For all the time Wilbur thought about it, he never accounted forcasualties.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 34





	In the Rubble of a Nation that no Longer Exists

“My unfinished symphony!” Wilbur’s eyes roamed the rubble in search of his brother in all but blood, “Forever unfinished!”

Techno was going to _love_ his idea. It was brilliant! This nation, this entire land that had caused more suffering than the peace Wilbur had envisioned was _gone._ Blown up. Obliterated. And it had left such _chaos_ behind. There was no place to rebuild it, no nation for a government to corrupt. 

His grin dims as he sees a trident stuck in the ground. Well, that probably wasn’t _Techno’s_ trident. He’s not the only one to have one, surely. But the crown next to it, cracked and bruised, _definitely_ belonged to his brother.

And there, a few meters to the left, a charred body covered in a burning red cape.

Oh.

_Oh._

Wilbur has been cold before, in the depths of the Antarctic Empire. There, the chill always knows how to seep into your clothes, no matter how many layers you pile on. And if you wanted to have a play in the water, even in the warmest months, you’d leave with chattering teeth and purple lips at best. He was always cold there, but he had gotten used to the cold.

But this- this _freezing_ feeling under his skin, beneath his bones, _aches_ more than he thought anything could ache.

“Dad…” He begins, voice as soft, as light, as a feather. “Kill me.”

With a jerking flinch, Phil snaps his head over to his son. “No,” he says, borderline hysteric, “No, Wil, I-”

“Kill me!”

“I can’t _,_ you’re my _son!”_

A fistful of robes Wilbur used to press his face into during times of despair and joy alike, full of the green of the forest and the back of night. Wings, just as black and just as light as Wilbur’s voice had been moments before, flew up in alarm. The feeling of rough stone behind his back, ringing in his ears, a sob caught in his throat-

 _“Please,_ Wil, I can’t- _I can’t lose you too!”_

(From somewhere on the ground, the survivors watch amidst the rubble. Most are looking at the scene with alarm, a detached sense of what might have been joy or anxiety or _fear._

One is not staring at the scene. The blood on his hands and his clothes and his blade matches the red on his shirt. The dusk of the falling sky is just as yellow as his hair. The words carrying across the wind seem as loud as someone might describe him and yet he sees none of it. Hears none of it.

There is blood in his ears, a cry of disbelief on his tongue. The sting of tears well behind his eyes and all he can think is _no no no no this isn’t real you’re seeing things please no technoblade never dies remember please don’t let this be a lie please please get up please_

The corpse does not move.

The boy who was once so loud now can think of nothing to say.)

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank @zannolin's stream for giving me the idea and to have this be the first dream smp fic i post.


End file.
